The Baker's Tale
by Qelah Sebatyne
Summary: We sometimes become attached to characters in our favorite shows. But what if we are characters in their favorite shows, too? (Alternate universe for one major character.)


DISCLAIMER: This is just for fun. I do not own anything related to Star Trek and will not make any money from any fan episodes I may write, either now or in the future. Thanks to Gene Roddenberry for giving us such a fun universe to play around in!

The Baker's Tale

Part I First Officer's Log, stardate 41221.3

 _The_ Enterprise _has inserted into a standard orbit around the third planet of the Cerulean B system, which is called Myra. It is inhabited by a Neolithic culture of humanoids, who are generally peaceful. We are under orders by Starfleet Command to establish friendly relations with the Myranians, because their oceans have a high concentration of a rare mineral called saludite, which is useful in the creation of vaccines for several deadly diseases._

 _I am leading an away team to pay a visit to Rohiro, the chief of the largest village…_

"Energize."

The transporter beam dropped from the ceiling. Space began to swirl. I waited for the moment of blackness that would come before I rematerialized on Myra. But it never came.

Instead, everything went _blue_. I felt myself tumbling end over end.

 _Malfunction!_

"Abort!" I tried to scream, but I was already too far gone. _Please, God, I don't want to die like_ this _…_

Then, finally, blackness.

There was, of course, no way to know how long this blackness lasted. But it sure felt longer than the split second it was supposed to be.

Then I felt myself beginning to coalesce back into corporeal existence. I began to slowly – too slowly – become more solid. Parts of me phased in and out of the physical realm. Something was definitely wrong.

 _God, I have never felt this dizzy._

The rematerialization process finally completed. I collapsed onto… well, who knew what?

I lay where I fell, in some kind of misfolded, tangled heap.

"Commander Riker?"

The voice sounded far away, as if someone were calling from the bottom of a well, or maybe from high in the sky. With the pounding, throbbing dizziness, there was no way to tell what direction the voice was coming from.

"Commander Riker!"

The voice was closer this time. Something – arms, probably – lifted my torso, with obvious difficulty. My head clunked into something warm. A chest, maybe?

" _Will_!"

The use of my first name jolted my scrambled brain back into functionality. I opened my eyes and found myself looking up into the face of the person who was holding me.

My eyebrows jumped straight off my forehead. My jaw dropped so hard it almost hit my chest.

" _Annie_?" I whispered in disbelief. "From _Earthbound_?"

Her eyes widened in shock. Then some sort of understanding dawned. "Possibly," she said. "What's _Earthbound_?"

"It's my favorite holodrama from when I was in high school, and at Starfleet Academy. You were one of the main characters." I felt myself beginning to blush. Her heart-shaped face, deep blue eyes, and luxurious chocolate-brown hair that flowed over her shoulders in loose curls were exactly as they were portrayed in the show. She was even wearing a shirt that I remembered, a lavender sweater with a deep plunge in the front. "I had an enormous crush on you."

She took a moment to digest that. "Well, it makes perfect sense. I know you from _Star Trek_ , which is one of my favorite shows." She closed her eyes and swallowed. "And it's probably hard to know whose crush is bigger." She leaned down and kissed me on the forehead.

I tipped my head up, and her next kiss caressed my lips.

My strength surged back to normal. I had to get off the damn floor. I rose, pulling Annie with me. She circled my waist with her arms and rested her head on my shoulder. I held her tight against me.

"So where are we?" I asked after a few minutes.

"My house. You materialized in my kitchen. How did you get here?"

I shrugged. "Something clearly went wrong with the transporter." I looked around. Her kitchen and living room were painted light green and were joined together in the open style that was common in the early twenty-first century. I took a deep breath. "So I guess I'm here until Captain Picard and his engineering team figure out how to fix it."

"Don't worry," Annie replied, looking deep into my eyes. "I'll take care of you." She transferred her arms to around my neck and covered my lips with hers.

I felt like I was going to melt.

When she came up for air, I looked down into her eyes. "Is there someplace more comfortable?"

She grinned broadly. "Of course." Taking my hand, she led me down the hall to her bedroom. She pulled me onto the bed with her.

I didn't even notice where her clothes went; they just seemed to disappear.

I dropped my uniform on the floor.

She pulled me down on top of her.

 _Hell yeah._ This was the best transporter malfunction ever.

Part II Annie's Journal (I have no clue what stardate this is)

 _I'm settling in well aboard the_ Enterprise _. My new bakery, Enterprising Confections – I mean, I just_ had _to do something playing with the name of the ship – is a huge hit. The children love it. I almost can't make the cakes, cookies, and pastries fast enough to keep my coolers filled. It's mind-boggling, especially since I never made this kind of money at The Baker's Dozen, which was my bakery back on twenty-first century Earth… you know, with the crappy economy of the time, and all._

 _And I've even made a few friends…_

"Mrs. Riker?"

I looked up from the big bowl of frosting on the counter and grinned. "Hey, Wes! Come on in. How's it going?"

Wesley Crusher hurried to the back of the store and joined me at the counter. "I need a break from studying. I mean, I like calculus, but…" He sighed and shook his head, causing the couple strands of hair that stood straight up to wiggle. "I just need a break."

"Don't worry, I understand that perfectly," I assured him. "I couldn't study all the time either, and I never had to take anything as hard as calculus."

Wesley looked up at me, just a little, since he was almost as tall as me. "What's your degree in?" he asked.

"My undergrad was in culinary science. My master's was in 'entrepreneurial studies.' It was a brand-new program, because at the time they were just figuring out that people aren't just _born_ knowing how to start and run a business. I've known since I was a little girl that I wanted to run my own bakery."

"I've known since I was little that I wanted to be a Starfleet officer too," Wesley said. "But… but, but sometimes my brain hurts!"

I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I know the feeling! Say, I was just about to start frosting these cookies." I indicated the platter that sat, piled high, next to the bowl of frosting. "Want to help?"

"Sure!" Wesley agreed enthusiastically. "Is there anything specific you want me to put on them – other than that it has to be made of frosting?"

"Nah. Be creative. Do what you want." He'd decorated cookies and cakes for me several times before, so I knew he was an artist as well as a scientific genius. I trusted him to come up with something that would be sure to sell. "Meanwhile, that'll free me up to get some paperwork done that I've been putting off."

Wesley laughed. "Oh, you too, huh?" He reached for the spatula.

"Hey, Wes, don't forget to wash your hands."

"Oh. Yeah." He hurried over to the sink.

 _Kids_. Rolling my eyes, I stepped through the door into my office as the water came on. "Oh, and Wes," I called over my shoulder, "you may eat _one_ cookie."

An answering laugh floated through the open door. "Don't worry, I'm not going to eat your merchandise."

Sitting down at my computer terminal, I pulled up the "paperwork" – purely electronic, of course – that I was supposed to be working on. I was slowly getting more comfortable with the bizarre jumble of touchscreens and flashing lights that passed for a computer around here, but it was still slow going.

I managed to get about half of it done, but I'm not going to lie. I _really_ missed the keyboard and mouse that I was used to.

Coming to a stopping point, I decided to go out front and check on Wesley and the cookies. I stepped up beside him at the counter.

My eyes widened and my breath caught in wonder.

Wesley's finished cookies lay in neat rows on a platter he had pulled from the cupboard. Each cookie had an inch-high, perfectly formed, whimsically cartoonish kitten or puppy sitting on top of it.

All made of frosting, of course.

"Oh, my gosh, those are _adorable_!" My voice wasn't quite a squeal, but almost. "They're almost too cute to eat."

Wesley grinned up at me. "Thanks, Mrs. Riker."

"You're welcome." I raised my voice a little. "Computer, record imagery of those cookies, please."

A whirring sound emanated from somewhere in the ceiling. Something clicked.

"Images recorded," said the mechanical voice.

"Thank you, computer." I turned back to the cookies. "When we put these in the cooler, they'll probably sell out in all of five minutes."

"Yeah," Wesley grinned.

"You know, if you keep this up, I just might have to give you a job!"

Wesley laughed. "No, thanks. I've got one of those already, up on the bridge."

I laughed, too. "Yeah, I know. So what are you up to next?"

"Well, I—"

 _SCREEEEAK!_

The deck started bucking like an angry bull. Wesley grabbed the bowl of frosting. I snatched at the platter of finished cookies, but they went flying anyway.

 _Screeeak. THUD! THUD! CLANK._

A split second of silence. Then alarms began to wail.

"Wesley, what the _hell_ was that?"

"I don't know. Let's go find out." He hurried out into the corridor, with me close on his heels. He frantically punched commands into the nearest computer terminal. A bewildering array of displays popped up in response.

I couldn't make head or tail of what they meant, but Wesley obviously could. His shoulders tensed up. His face went pale.

And then he said a word that I couldn't have imagined would ever come out of his mouth.

"We've had a catastrophic systems malfunction," Wesley elaborated, his voice sounding oddly mechanical. "The saucer and star drive sections have spontaneously separated. Both the main bridge and the whole engineering section are sealed off from the rest of the ship. The main bridge's controls are offline. Engineering doesn't have any control, either." He swallowed. "And life support on the bridge is down."

I felt myself buckle as if some unseen alien entity had punched me in the stomach. Catching my breath was suddenly impossible. I put my hand on the bulkhead to keep myself from keeling over.

Then Wesley turned to me, his eyes wide with fear. "My mom's on that bridge."

"So's Will," I managed to croak past the giant lump in my throat. The black hole of a pit in my stomach made me feel as if I weighed three hundred pounds.

Wesley's eyes remained locked on mine for a long moment. Then his gaze turned inward. He transformed, seemingly by magic, from terrified child into competent Starfleet officer. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"I have an idea," Wesley said with a quiet confidence that gave me a glimmer of hope. "But I can't do it on my own, Mrs. Riker. I need your help."

I nodded, my civilian's heart yammering in my chest. "Just tell me what to do."

"Let's go." Wesley grabbed my hand and sprinted down the corridor at a pace more suited to a cheetah than a boy and a grown woman.

I couldn't possibly hope to keep up. My feet skidded on every step. I kept having to push off the bulkhead with my hand to give myself more distance.

Wesley slammed to a ridiculously abrupt halt. His hand in the middle of my chest was the only thing that prevented me from crashing into him.

Before I had a chance to figure out what was happening, he was spinning the lock mechanism of a hatch. It hissed open with a burst of steam.

Wesley stepped through, pulling me with him. The hatch closed behind us with a reverberating clank.

We found ourselves on a service ladder. Wesley seemed to slither down it like some sort of human snake. I scrambled clumsily after him, as quickly as I could.

The ladder ended on top of a big metal tube. Wesley immediately dropped to his knees, spinning the hatch on top of the tube.

I wanted to ask him what was going on, but I was breathing too hard to get any sound out.

The hatch opened.

"Come on!" Wesley dove in head-first.

I dropped in more slowly, feet first. My eyes widened in disbelief. Wesley was splayed, alligator-style, on the bottom of the tube.

I looked both ways. Comprehension dawned. "An _air conduit_?" I blurted. "Are you insane?"

"Nope. It's the quickest way to the shuttle bay." Wesley turned and shoved off down the tube.

"Shuttle bay?" I repeated blankly, desperately scuttling after him. I couldn't afford to get lost in here!

"I'll explain later. Let's go!"

The ridiculous alligator walk that the size of the tube kept us to was excruciating. It seemed that a year passed before the tube dead-ended at a metal grate. Wesley worked the fasteners with a tool he pulled from his pocket, and then pushed the grate outward. He shoved the tool back in his pocket and crawled through the opening. I followed.

We emerged onto a balcony far above the deck of the shuttle bay.

 _Amazing._

"This way!" Wesley ran along the balcony, pulling me along with him, until we reached another service ladder. Down we went.

 _What is it with all this climbing?_ I grumbled in the privacy of my own head.

As soon as his feet hit the deck, Wesley charged across the shuttle bay and clambered onto the shuttle's running board. Well, it looked like a high-tech running board, but I was pretty sure that wasn't what it was actually called. By the time I scrambled up after him, Wesley was punching in an access code.

The hatch slid open. He stepped inside. I dove in after him. He closed the hatch. We raced forward to the cockpit.

Wesley plopped into the pilot's chair, waving me over to the communications board. He started throwing switches.

"Okay, Wesley. Now will you _please_ explain to me what we're up to?" I demanded, still struggling to catch my breath.

"Sure." He outlined his plan – in what seemed like three-word pieces – while he continued to work the command board.

The shuttle's engines roared to life.

The shuttle bay's doors opened. The containment field went down. Wesley lifted us from the deck and shot through the door into open space.

"Inform the _Enterprise_ of our plans," Wesley ordered.

It was actually something I knew how to do. I opened the appropriate hailing frequencies.

"Shuttle craft to main bridge," I announced, amazing myself with how steady my voice sounded.

" _Annie?_ " Will's voice shrieked from the console, about thirty times louder than it should have been. " _What the_ hell _are you doing aboard that shuttle craft?_ "

"Don't worry," I replied. "Wesley's flying the thing. I'm just manning the comm."

" _Are you out of your—_ "

"Commander!" Captain Picard barked. "If Mrs. Riker trusts Ensign Crusher to take good care of her, then you should, too."

There was a moment of shocked silence.

Then Will's voice, at a more normal volume: "Yes, sir."

"Shuttle craft, what's your plan?" Picard asked.

"Well, Wesley says that if we can get onto the battle bridge, he can reattach us," I replied. "Then, hopefully, he can hijack your controls and restore your life support."

Silence.

The comm link was audio only, but I could almost see Picard rubbing his chin in his characteristic thinking-hard pose; and Will, with his arms crossed, shooting daggers out of his eyes in his patented _I don't like this at all_ look.

"Good hunting, shuttle craft," the captain said finally. "And Godspeed. Picard out."

The comm board went blank.

I returned my attention to the main view screen. Wesley was chasing after the star drive section, which was tumbling end over end, completely out of control.

I glanced over at Wesley. His brow was creased in concentration, and he was gripping the controls so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Hang on!"

I gripped the arms of my chair as Wesley sent the shuttle into a spiraling dive, trying desperately to match our trajectory to the star drive's tumble.

He failed.

A section of the star drive swung toward us like a mighty fist.

Wesley cursed. He threw the shuttle into a sharp bank. The desperate evasive maneuver made the engines scream in protest, but it got us out of—

Well, almost. The aft end of the star drive's starboard warp-drive engine struck our hull with a glancing blow, sending us tumbling away.

I landed on the deck, creased against the bulkhead. God only knows how Wesley kept his seat.

"Shuttle craft, are you all right?" Will's voice blared from the comm board.

"Y-yes, sir," Wesley stammered. He took a deep breath. "Time to try that again."

" _Now listen here, you little—"_

"Shut up, Commander!" That was Captain Picard. "Let Wesley concentrate."

"Keep hailing frequencies _open_ ," Wesley grated out through clenched teeth.

I scrambled back to my seat and locked the channel open.

Wesley tried his insane maneuver again. I braced against the arms of my chair and the deck. I didn't think I could take another toss across the cockpit without blacking out.

Wesley failed a second time, but not as badly. The star drive missed us by – oh, a couple of inches.

"Jesus H. Christ," came the growl from the comm board.

I just sat there, chest heaving, trying not to throw up.

"Come on," Wesley grated. He dove the shuttle again.

I gulped.

And then, by some miracle, we were tumbling in perfect synchronicity with the star drive.

I slumped, limp with relief, in my chair.

A low whistle came from the comm board. "Holy moly," breathed Geordi La Forge's voice. "That was some _slick_ flying, kid."

"Don't encourage him, Lieutenant La Forge." Will's tone was harsh, like murder wrapped in velvet.

Geordi's gulp was audible, even over the comm channel. "Uh, sorry, sir."

"Okay, now," Wesley muttered, bringing my attention back to what was happening here in the shuttle. "I just have to find a place to latch on."

In an inconceivable feat of stunt flying, Wesley managed to _circle_ the star drive, all the while maintaining the synchronous tumble that kept the star drive's various parts from slamming into us. I had to close my eyes to keep from getting space sick.

"There!" Wesley exclaimed.

I opened my eyes. Wesley was angling the shuttle toward an emergency hatch on the star drive's underside. Somehow, he managed to bring our velocity and trajectory, relative to the star drive, to zero.

Wesley pressed a button.

An umbilical shot out from the side of the shuttle. It engulfed the star drive's emergency hatch and locked itself in place. Status lights on Wesley's command board went green.

"Come on!" Wesley launched himself out of the pilot's chair and charged aft toward the hatch.

I raced after him.

By the time I caught up, Wesley was just opening the hatch. He jumped through.

I stepped through the hatch to follow – and shouted in surprise.

I was _floating._

"What the hell?"

Then I noticed how Wesley was propelling himself forward – by grabbing onto rings attached to the inside of the umbilical and pulling himself along. I started imitating him, and managed to advance a few feet down the tube.

It was harder than it looked. I caromed first off one side of the umbilical, then the other.

Wesley waited for me at the far end, trying not to laugh.

I decided that I didn't want to know how a kid so young had learned to swim in zero gravity.

When I finally caught up, Wesley cycled the hatch. He crossed the boundary, then pulled me through.

The return of gravity shouldn't have come as a surprise, but it did.

I fell on the deck.

Wesley reached over me to cycle the hatch closed and disengage the umbilical. It folded itself back up inside the shuttle where it had come from.

Wesley grabbed my hand, pulled me to my feet, and charged down the corridor. I skidded along behind him, wondering how in hell the kid could be so freaking _fast_.

I had never been to the battle bridge before, so I didn't know where we were going. But Wesley obviously did, taking a bewildering array of turns that flashed past in a blinding blur.

There was only one thing that made sense on this breakneck journey. All of the hatches in the star-drive section must have been sealed. Why? Because there was no one in any of the corridors.

At last, Wesley skidded to a halt. I careened into the nearest bulkhead to keep from falling over.

 _Battle Bridge_ , said the label on the door we had stopped in front of.

Wesley punched in an access code.

Nothing happened.

"Computer," Wesley ordered, "open hatch to Battle Bridge."

"Hatch inoperable," replied an absurdly unperturbed mechanical voice.

Wesley cursed. Then he pulled a vibro blade from his pocket and pressed a button. The blade began to buzz like an angry wasp. "Sorry, Captain," Wesley muttered, and plunged the blade into the locking mechanism.

The blade screamed. I put my hands over my ears. Molten metal dripped down the wall, and smoke billowed from the hole. Finally, Wesley's hand jolted as something broke inside the bulkhead. The door lurched open, just a couple of inches.

Wesley deactivated the blade and put it back in his pocket. "Help me get that hatch open."

Working together, we managed to force the door open just far enough for us to squeeze through, one at a time. Once inside, Wesley raced for the helm controls while I took what I assumed was my intended position at the comm board.

"Get Picard on the horn," Wesley ordered as he brought the battle bridge's systems online.

I hit the appropriate button. "Main bridge, this is the shuttle crew. We have gained access to the battle bridge. I repeat, we have gained access to the battle bridge."

"Good," Picard said. "Are your controls responding?"

"I'll know in a minute," Wesley muttered. He continued throwing switches and pressing buttons. A whir emanated from somewhere in the star drive's hull. He put his hands on the controls and entered a command.

The star drive's tumble slowed, then evened out to normal flight.

"Yes!" Wesley shouted in triumph. Then, in a more normal volume, he asked, "Do you have control?"

"Negative," Picard replied.

"All right, sir. Standby," Wesley said, racing after the saucer section. It was tumbling, but not nearly as badly as the star drive had been.

After the ridiculous stunt flying he had pulled with the shuttle, it was almost easy for Wesley to get the star drive section into a synchronous tumble with the saucer.

"Okay, now for the hard part," Wesley muttered under his breath. Concentrating harder than I had ever seen anyone concentrate, he inched the star drive toward the saucer.

With the care of a doctor performing subatomic surgery, Wesley lined up the star drive's docking mechanism with that of the saucer. He inched closer.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity of minute course adjustments, Wesley slid the two enormous sections together. The clanks reverberated throughout the hull as all the connectors locked into place.

"Yes! We have positive lock!" Wesley exulted.

"Good. Now get our life support going already. It's getting mighty hard to breathe in here," Picard ordered.

"Yes, sir." Wesley's hands flew over his controls.

I watched, holding my breath, as the displays changed again and again, and Wesley entered yet another set of commands. This process continued for probably five minutes. Then, finally, a whole bank of displays that had been dark until now flared to life.

"Mrs. Riker, inform the main bridge that we have their controls," Wesley ordered, continuing to press more buttons.

"Main bridge, this is the battle bridge. Wesley has your controls."

"Good," Picard said. "Now, about that life support…"

Wesley kept working his controls. A bunch of status lights went green.

A tremendous cheer erupted from the comm board.

Wesley continued working. More status lights went green.

" _HA!_ " Wesley leaped from his seat, pumping his fist. "Life support's back on, _and_ I've unlocked the engineering section!" He grabbed me by the hands and danced me around the battle bridge like some kind of deranged marionette.

Yes, we looked ridiculous.

No, I didn't care.

The cheering from the main bridge died down. More cheers from the engineering section floated up the corridor. Then they, too, faded.

Wesley stopped dancing. He looked exhilarated.

Picard's voice issued from the comm board one last time. "Ensign Crusher and Mrs. Riker, report to the main bridge."

"We're on our way." Wesley grabbed my hand and raced from the battle bridge at the same cheetah-inspired pace he'd been using all afternoon.

When we finally stopped on the turbolift, I collapsed against the wall. "Dammit, Wesley. You run like a blue streak."

He laughed. "I _am_ a blue streak."

The turbolift doors opened onto the bridge. Wesley pushed me forward.

On the bridge, Will spun around. He took two bounding leaps toward me before he remembered that he had to look at least a _little_ professional. He stopped.

I however, was under no such obligation. I ran straight into his arms and buried my face in his shoulder.

Will held me tight against him. I savored the warmth of his body against mine and inhaled his intoxicating scent. Slowly, the tension began to ease from my muscles.

Alas, the moment couldn't possibly last long enough. He held me a little away. He stared hard at me, his eyes glistening just a tiny bit.

"Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again."

I stared back into those gorgeous eyes of his. "Wesley and I saved your life, William Thomas Riker."

He sighed. "I know. That's the part that scares me the most."

I slid my hands up his sides and around his shoulders, so that my arms ended up around his neck instead of his waist. I stretched up and kissed him with a thoroughness that would have made a porn star blush. Will's arms tightened around me as he deepened the kiss.

A tidal wave of giggles, whistles, and applause cascaded around the bridge.

We ignored it. It was irrelevant. All I knew was that I couldn't _wait_ until his shift was over so I could get him alone.

"Ahem. Commander."

Will looked up. "Sir?"

"There's a time and place for everything, Mr. Riker."

"Yes, sir." Reluctantly, Will let me go. His right hand slid down my left arm to hold my hand.

"Ensign Crusher, we'll have to have a little talk about unauthorized shuttle rides," Picard said firmly. "But for now, all I'm going to say is thank you for saving the _Enterprise_."

Wesley gulped. He extricated himself from his mother's arms and turned to face the captain. "Yes, sir."

Picard crossed his arms. He was obviously trying not to smile. "Ensign Crusher and Mrs. Riker, you are dismissed from the bridge."

I turned back to Will and squeezed his hand. "See you tonight," was all I said aloud. But my eyes, locked on his, conveyed the real message: _I love you_.

He smiled, and the message in his eyes was equally clear: _I love you, too_.

Then I slid my hand from his and followed Wesley back into the turbolift.

"Well," Wesley said cheerfully after the doors closed. "That was a fun little adventure, wasn't it?"

"N-no, it wasn't." I gulped in a couple of lungfuls of air, dropping my hands to my knees. Now that I was no longer in the safety and comfort of Will's arms, the shakes were coming back; worse than they ever had been during Wesley's and my fight to save the ship. "No, it wasn't fun at all."

Wesley laughed. "It had its scary moments, that's for sure," he agreed. "But now that it's over, it's a great story that we can tell for the rest of our lives."

"Whatever you say," I grumbled, rolling my eyes. "It'll be a 'great story' when I stop having nightmares about it."

The turbolift doors opened. Wesley slung his arm over my shoulders and led me into the corridor. "If you have nightmares, Commander Riker will always be there to comfort you." The grin was evident in Wesley's tone of voice. "But don't worry. We'll make a Starfleet officer of you yet."

"No, thanks!" I retorted vehemently, returning Wesley's friendly gesture. "But since I've spent an afternoon doing _your_ job, want to go back to the store and make some more frosting kitties?"


End file.
